Decisions
by hughville
Summary: When Cameron is injured, House realizes how much she means to him.


House twirled his cane over his head. He watched it spin, mentally reviewing the patient's symptoms in his head. He was aware of the door to this office opening, but he continued to twirl the cane through his fingers.

"House," Wilson said, quietly.

"I heard that the tranny nurse broke up with the weird lawyer," House commented.

"House," Wilson repeated. "It's Cameron. She…" Wilson paused and looked down at the floor.

House leaned his cane against his desk and carefully placed his feet on the floor. "She's late," he told his best friend.

"They just brought her into the ER. She was out jogging and apparently-House, wait!"

House rushed past Wilson out into the corridor. He cursed his leg which slowed him. Pushing the elevator button, he waited a moment and then wheeled on his heel and headed for the stairwell.

Wilson followed him as he painfully made his way down the stairs to the emergency room. He stopped at the entrance and quickly surveyed the room. Foreman came toward him, concern and worry marring his features.

"House," Foreman began.

House pushed past him and limped slowly toward the bed in the back of the room. He gasped at the sight of her. Her long dark hair was matted with blood, a bruise was forming on her left cheek and her left eye was swollen shut. Blood stained her white tank top and he saw that the doctors had splinted her left arm and leg.

"She was hit by a car. Driver said she didn't see her," Chase whispered.

Everything seemed to fade away as House stared at Cameron. All the noise and confusion disappeared. He felt as if the two of them were enclosed in a bubble. A bubble no one else could intrude on. He looked up at the monitor beside her bed. Reaching out, he gently stroked her cheek. He felt hands take his cane from him, guide him onto a stool. Carefully, he took her hand in his.

"Cameron?" he whispered. Her eyes remained closed. Looking up, his eyes locked with Wilson's. Understanding and compassion shone in Wilson's dark eyes. House looked back at Cameron.

"Get me some water and clean cloths. She needs to be cleaned up," House rasped. He swallowed hard.

A moment later, a bowl of water and a pile of surgical drapes appeared at his elbow. Dipping a cloth into the water, he began to carefully wipe the blood from her face. As he stroked the wet material over her skin, he tried not to think about what losing her would mean. With gentle strokes, he washed the blood from her face, arms and legs.

"Here," Wilson said, handing House a hospital gown and a pair of scissors. "Do you want me to help you?"

House shook his head. Wilson retreated behind the curtain, leaving House alone with Cameron.

Hands shaking, House lifted the hem of Cameron's tank top and carefully cut the material. Gently, he removed the ruined top and then cut her shorts off. He stared at her for several long moments before draping the gown over her naked body. Gently, he slid her arms into the gown and pulled the blanket over her.

He looked at the monitor again and sat back down. Taking her hand again, he waited.

It seemed that only a moment passed. Wilson appeared again and stood beside the bed. "They can move her upstairs," he informed House.

House nodded. "Which room?" he asked.

"ICU."

House gripped the edge of the bed and closed his eyes. "Does she need surgery?"

"No."

"Then why is she going to the ICU?" House demanded.

"Because that's where Cuddy wants her," Wilson told him, quietly.

"Why was she out jogging so early?" House asked. "She has a treadmill at home."

"It's spring," Wilson said simply.

The ICU was busy. Chase and Foreman stood outside Cameron's room.

"He hasn't left her side," Foreman commented.

"I know," Chase responded.

"Wilson is the only one he'll let in," Foreman continued.

"I know."

The two men turned slowly and walked away.

House arched his back to alleviate the pain that snaked up his spine. Reaching out, he stroked Cameron's hair.

"Wake up, Cameron," he whispered. He leaned over her, holding her hand. He looked down when he felt her fingers press against his. Looking up, he saw her eyes flutter.

Her eyes opened and he smiled in relief.

"Where am I?" she whispered hoarsely.

"ICU."

"Why?"

"You were jogging. You were hit by a car."

"I don't remember that," she sighed. "When?"

"Yesterday morning."

Wincing, she turned to look at him. "You're pathetic," she laughed weakly.

"Why?"

"You've been here this whole time, haven't you?"

"You're my employee. I was worried."

"You're a liar, too," she scolded, gently. Reaching out, she brushed her fingers against the stubble covering his cheek.

Closing his eyes, he leaned into her touch.

"I was worried," he repeated.

She smiled and closed her eyes again. She lay quietly for several moments before opening her eyes again.

"Did you see me naked?" she asked.

House laughed; a low, seductive laugh.

"I knew it," she told him. "You just wanted to get into my pants."

Leaning forward, House kissed her. "Yeah, that's all I wanted," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers.

She sighed. "What happens now?"

"I don't know," he told her. He kissed her again. "We'll worry about it later."

The insistent knocking woke her. Cameron rose from the couch slowly and made her way carefully to the door. Eight weeks had passed since her accident. She no longer needed to wear the casts on her arm and leg; her cuts and bruises had healed, but she still tired easily. She pinned a smile on her face and opened the door. She expected to see Foreman, Chase, Cuddy or Wilson. They made a point of visiting her every day. Foreman and Chase usually brought her magazines and hospital gossip, Cuddy usually brought food, and Wilson brought her books or music he thought she would like. The one person who never came to see her stood outside her door, leaning on his cane.

She had not seen him since he kissed her. Eight weeks. He stood, head bowed, shoulders slumped, not meeting her gaze.

"House," she said, stepping to one side to allow him entrance. He continued to stand in the hall. "Are you going to come in?"

Slowly, he limped into her apartment. He looked around, still not meeting her gaze.

"Cuddy says she cleared you to return to work next week," he commented.

Cameron smiled slightly and moved past him to sit on the couch. "That's right."

"Chase and Foreman are idiots," he told her, moving slowly around her living room.

"They say you're impossible to please lately."

He lifted a book from the bookshelf and idly flipped through it. "You've been talking to them?"

"They come by every day."

"Anybody else been by?" He replaced the book and moved over to her CD player. Pulling a CD from the stack, he opened the case.

"Cuddy and Wilson."

"Huh."

"Why are you here, House?" she asked calmly.

"Got a patient."

Cameron remained silent, waiting for him to continue. He replaced the CD and moved to stand beside the couch. He tapped his cane on the floor and tilted his head. He still wouldn't look at her.

"Forty-two year old male," he continued. "Intermittent stomach pain, trouble breathing, recurrent rash. I'm thinking autoimmune."

"Well, if he's still your patient next week, I'll look over the file," she told him, a slight smile edging her voice. "But that's not why you're here."

House scratched his head and looked at a painting on the wall behind her head. "Of course it is."

She laughed. "No, it's not. You kissed me, House; twice. That's why you're here. I'm just surprised it took you so long."

He turned a cool blue gaze on her. She smiled at him.

"Sit down," she said, patting the couch.

He stood, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. The tapping increased. Reaching out, she grabbed his cane to halt the tapping.

"Sit down, House."

Sighing, he sank down beside her, stretching his right leg out and leaning his cane against the edge of the couch.

"I shouldn't have kissed you," he told her, leaning his head back against the couch.

"I'm glad you did," she whispered.

"You're my employee."

"So, that means we can't have a relationship?"

Silence stretched out between them. She looked at him. He looked tired. Reaching out, she stroked his cheek. "When was the last time you slept?" she asked.

"I can't have a relationship with you," he told her, turning to look at her. The sadness in his eyes caught her off guard.

"Why?"

He didn't answer, just looked at her, his bright blue eyes locked with hers. Leaning forward, he captured her mouth with his. She sighed as his tongue slid into her mouth and his arms encircled her waist. Her hands slid over his shoulders and down his back. Pulling her against him, his mouth slid from her mouth down her throat. She tilted her head back and moaned softly. She felt him pull her shirt over her head. Then his mouth was on her breast. Hands shaking, she pushed his jacket from his shoulders. She pressed her mouth against the strong column of his neck. His hands caressed her back, stroking lightly down her spine. She removed his shirt and t-shirt. She ran her hands over the muscles of his chest and arms. Pressing her back against the cushions of the couch, he pulled her shorts off. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady her trembling hands. His mouth moved against her shoulder and she felt his tongue touch the base of her neck. She pushed his jeans down his legs, tossing them onto the floor. Her fingers trailed up his spine. His mouth closed over hers again; his hands brushed along the waistband of her panties. With a swift movement, he stripped her panties off. Panting, he sat back against the end of the couch.

Cameron sat up and looked at him. "What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out to stroke his chest.

"I can't.." he began. "My leg."

Realization flooded over her. His leg wouldn't support his weight. Rising, she held out her hand. Slowly, he put his hand in hers. She led him to her bedroom. She pushed him onto the bed and straddled him as he sat on the bed.

"Does this hurt?" she breathed, kissing him lightly.

"No," he told her, his hands closing over her hips.

"Do you want to lie down?" she asked. Her hands glided over his chest, down his stomach.

He looked at her. "I want you," he told her.

She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his boxer shorts. "I know," she whispered against his mouth.

Pushing him back, she pulled his shorts off and helped him get comfortable on her bed. Stretching out beside him, she lightly traced the scar on his right leg. Lowering her head, she pressed a gentle kiss against the damaged skin. She looked up at him. He returned her gaze and stroked her hair. She moved over him and kissed him. His hands resumed their exploration of her skin. Her breathing quickened. His mouth followed his hands. She gasped for air.

"Now," she gasped, moving over him, straddling his hips.

He breathed in sharply as she slid over him. His hands gripped her hips.

Cameron moved slowly, enjoying the feel of him inside her.

"You're smiling," he rasped.

"I like this," she told him. "You feel good. Now shut up."

His laughter filled her with joy. She leaned over him as his hands slid over her breasts. She lost herself in the feel and smell of him.

She felt the familiar tension building. "God, House!" she shouted as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

Collapsing against him, she felt him jerk against her as he cried out.

"You're amazing," she whispered against his throat. Sliding off him, she curled against him. She felt his mouth against her hair.

She drifted off to sleep listening to the sound of his breathing.

She awoke later to find him gone. Rising, she pulled her robe on and walked out into the living room. House sat on the couch, tying his shoes.

"You're leaving." It wasn't a question. She folded her arms and watched him slide his arms into his jacket.

He nodded. "I can't have a relationship with you. You need a relationship." He shook his head. "I can't give that to you. I don't know how."

Rising, he picked up his cane. "I'm sorry," he told her, refusing to meet her eyes. "I'll see you next week."

Cameron stood in the middle of the room and watched him walk out. "Right," she whispered. "Next week." Sighing, she returned to her bedroom.

_Thud_. House caught the ball and threw it against the wall again. _Thud_. He developed a satisfying rhythm.

_Like the satisfying rhythm Cameron developed on top of you last week_, his mind whispered.

House winced and the ball flew past him and bounced against the carpet. Rubbing his forehead, he sank down into his chair. He was an idiot. Going to her apartment had been a mistake. Having sex with her had been an even bigger mistake.

_An enjoyable mistake_, the same voice whispered.

"Shut up," he muttered.

Leaning back in his chair, he closed his eyes. He heard footsteps approach his desk and the delicate scent of her floated over him.

"You're late," he commented.

"I was in Cuddy's office," Cameron informed him.

House nodded. "Good." His eyes remained closed and he folded his hands over his stomach.

"Are we going to talk about what happened?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Just said I don't want to talk about it."

"We need to talk about it."

House opened his eyes and sat up. Placing his hands on his desk, he leaned forward. "No," he told her. "You need to talk about it."

"So, we're never going to talk about it?"

"Nope," he told her, rising from his chair. He grabbed his cane and tried to move past her. She blocked him.

"So, what?" he asked, trying to contain his annoyance. "You're not going to let me by until we talk about it?"

Folding her arms, Cameron stared grimly at him. "We slept together," she reminded him.

House sighed. "Technically, you slept. I stared at the ceiling for awhile, got up and got dressed after we had sex." He placed a heavy emphasis on the last word, lowering his head and glaring at her.

Cameron smiled.

House sighed and looked out the window. "Oh, God. You're smiling. That's never a good sign."

"You said you can't have a relationship with me. I can live with that. That doesn't mean we can't have sex."

"Yes, it does."

"Why?"

"Because women like you always want a relationship."

Leaning toward him, she smiled again. "Women like me also like sex. A lot."

"I'm not having sex with you again," he told her. She smiled again. "And stop smiling at me like that."

Cameron turned slowly and entered the adjoining office. House followed her. She sat down at the conference table. House hung his head in resignation as Chase and Foreman entered.

House sat at the piano in his apartment. Tonight music eluded him. Slowly, he rose from the piano and made his way into the kitchen. Pulling the jar of peanut butter out of the cabinet, he grabbed the bread off the counter and proceeded to make himself a sandwich. He carried his sandwich and an empty glass into the living room. Sitting on the couch, he reached for the remote. He flipped through the channels until he found a suitably mind numbing show. He poured himself a healthy shot of bourbon and sat back to eat his dinner.

The sound of his front door opening startled him.

He turned to see Cameron enter. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the television. "Breaking and entering is illegal," he told her.

"I used the key, so technically, I'm just entering."

He took a bite out of his sandwich. "Well, you can turn around and exit."

She sat next to him. "After we talk."

"I told you," he replied, "there's nothing to talk about."

"How can you say that?"

He tilted his head and squinted at her out of the corner of his eye. "Because it's true."

He felt her breath on his cheek. His eyes drifted shut as her lips pressed against his throat.

"I thought you came to talk," he whispered.

Her hand slid under his shirt. "You just said you don't want to talk," she reminded him.

"I'm not going to have sex with you," he said.

She laughed. "Okay."

Turning his face, she kissed him. As her tongue slid into his mouth, he tried to pull away, but she slipped her arm around the back of his neck and held him. With a sigh of defeat, he kissed her back.

She broke the kiss and stood up. Stepping past him, she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it onto the couch.

"Where are you going?' he called after her.

"The bedroom."

House sighed again and pushed himself to his feet. His sandwich lay on the floor. Bending down, he retrieved it and tossed it onto the coffee table. He made his way down the hall, skirting Cameron's clothes as he went.

He found her in his bed. The rational part of his mind told him to send her on her way. The irrational part of his mind screamed at him to join her.

Sighing, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor. His jeans and boxer shorts followed.

_So much for rationality_, he thought as he slid beneath the sheets.

"This is the last time," he warned her.

"Mm-hmm," she agreed, kissing his neck.

"I mean it."

She didn't respond. She pushed him back against the pillows and licked his chest, swirling her tongue over his nipple. His hands slid down her back, pulling her against him. She gasped when his hand slid between her legs. Rolling her onto her back, he stroked her wetness and leaned down to lick her breast. Her hands slid over the corded muscles of his arms. She kissed him, sighing as his tongue moved against hers. He lay back and pulled her on top of him. She sat astride him and smiled down at him. His fingers traced intricate patterns over her breasts causing her to sigh with pleasure. Tracing a line down her stomach, he gently pushed her back. Raising her hips, she slid down over him. She felt his hands on her hips, felt his body tense beneath hers. Running her hands over his chest, she moved slowly, savoring the feel of him sliding in and out. Looking down at him, she lost herself in the blueness of his gaze. An intense wave of pleasure, more intense than any she ever experienced washed over her. As it subsided, another wave followed and then another. The feeling was so overwhelming; she fell against him, too drained to move. She felt his arms close around her; felt him shudder against her.

She lay on top of him. She couldn't move; didn't want to move. Slowly she became aware of his hands. They stroked her back gently. Rising up slightly on her elbows, she looked at him.

"I love you," she whispered.

House reached up and stroked her hair. "I know," he told her.

"You don't love me, though, do you?" she asked.

He sighed. "I wish I could."

"What happens now?" she asked.

He smiled, sadly. "You spend the night and tomorrow we pretend this never happened."

"I don't know if I can do that," she told him.

"I can't give you what you want, Cameron. I can't. I wish I could."

"We could make this work."

"No, we can't. I can't."

"You won't even try?"

"I'll just end up hurting you. It's who I am. I can't change."

Cameron buried her face in his neck. He could feel her tears against his skin.

"See," he told her, "I'm hurting you already."

He held her in his arms as she cried. "You like me because I'm damaged. And because I'm damaged, I can't give you what you want."

"I know," she whispered, her tears subsiding.

He lay quietly, holding her. "We all make choices," he told her. "I'm choosing to let you go."

Rolling off him, she lay beside him, her body still pressed against his. "There's nothing I can say that will change your mind, is there?"

His silence was her answer. Resting her head on his shoulder, she sighed.

_At least I have tonight_, she thought. It would have to be enough.

Cameron hung the chart over the end of the bed. Turning to a nurse, she said, "Give him five milligrams of lorazepam."

The nurse nodded. Cameron knew he was watching her, but she chose to ignore him. She continued to work. Five years had passed since that night in House's apartment. During that time, he'd hired a new team, she'd developed a relationship with Chase, and he'd been involved with Cuddy.

Finally, she walked over to the doorway where House stood watching her. "What do you want, House?" she asked.

"Heard about you and Chase," he responded.

She knew he was referring to the fact that she and Chase had decided to end their relationship.

She waited for him to make the inevitable joke. It never came.

"What? No snappy remark, no Australian jokes?" She folded her arms and looked at him expectantly.

"How are you?" he asked, tapping his cane and looking at the floor.

The concern in his voice momentarily shocked her. She stared at him for several seconds before answering.

"I'm fine," she told him. "Our relationship had run its course."

"Good," he nodded.

"Why are you here, House?"

He continued to tap his cane against the floor, eyes cast down. Shaking his head, he sighed. "I don't know."

Turning, he slowly made his way toward the exit. She watched him walk away. She had gotten used to watching him walk away.

"So, the weird lawyer and the trannie nurse…" Wilson paused, pointing at House. "Are you ready for this? They're engaged."

House nodded distractedly.

"Did you hear what I said?" Wilson demanded. "House, I just tell you the best hospital gossip in the history of hospital gossip and you just nod? What's wrong with you?"

"Chase and Cameron broke up."

"I know. _I_ told _you_, remember?"

"Are you and Cuddy happy?" House asked. The two men faced each other across Wilson's desk. House looked at his best friend and waited for the answer.

"Yeah," Wilson told him. "We are. Why do you ask? You're not thinking…House, you couldn't make it work with Lisa. You made each other miserable."

"I know."

"Then why ask if we're happy?"

"Chase and Cameron broke up," House repeated.

Wilson sat back in his chair and regarded House. Five years ago, House trusted Wilson with his biggest secret. Wilson never told anyone about House and Cameron. Not even Lisa.

"She loves you. Always has, always will," Wilson told him.

"I can't give her what she needs."

"So, give her what you can."

"It won't be enough," House told him. "I'll make her miserable and she'll leave."

Wilson laughed. "You're afraid."

"Shut up. I am not."

"You're afraid of being happy."

House rose and turned to stare at Wilson. "Go home to your wife and daughter," he said.

"Go tell Cameron you want another chance."

House closed the door. Wilson sat back and smiled.

Cameron stopped short when she saw him. He leaned against the wall, head bowed, hands resting on his cane.

"House." Reaching past him, she inserted her key into the lock and opened the door.

"I can't marry you," he told her, following her into the apartment.

"Okay." She dropped the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and removed her jacket.

"We could try living together," he told her. He sighed and squinted at a spot on the wall above her head.

She felt hope surge. Breathing deeply, she retained an air of calm.

"You want to us to live together?" she asked, folding her arms.

"Yeah. See how it goes."

"So, would we live here; your apartment; someplace new?"

"My apartment, I guess," he responded.

"But we wouldn't get married."

"Nope."

She smiled. "When do you want me to move in?"

"Just like that?" he asked. "That's it?"

"Just like that."

For the first time since she'd known him, a genuine smile crossed his face.

Cameron dropped the last box outside the door. She stood and looked at the door to the apartment; t_heir _apartment. Returning inside, she could hear Wilson talking to House. Cuddy sat on the couch, holding Rachel on her lap. Cameron sank down beside them and sighed.

"Thanks for helping out today," Cameron said. She smiled at Rachel.

"Glad to do it," Cuddy told her. She smiled at Cameron. "He's your problem now."

Cameron laughed.

Wilson and House emerged from the kitchen. Rachel held out her arms to him. Wilson lifted his daughter into his arms and smiled at Cuddy and Cameron.

"Ready?" he asked Cuddy. She nodded.

Turning to Cameron, she smiled. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Lisa. See you tomorrow, Wilson," she called out. "Bye, Rachel."

House stretched out on the couch, rubbing his leg. She smiled at him. "You overdid it today."

Leaning his head back, he nodded. She watched as he pulled a bottle of Vicodin from his pocket and shook a pill into the palm of his hand. He swallowed the pill and sighed.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "I could order a pizza."

"Not hungry," he told her.

She nodded and moved to sit in the chair beside the couch. It was one of the few pieces of furniture she'd brought from her old apartment. Reaching out, she picked up the television remote. She flipped through several channels before checking the TiVo listings.

"What's Blackadder?" she asked.

"A British comedy."

She nodded. She turned the TV off. "I'm going to take a shower," she told him.

He nodded, eyes closed.

She closed the bathroom door and looked at herself in the mirror.

Pulling the band from her hair, she reached out to turn on the water. Steam rose, clouding the mirror.

_What did you expect?_ she asked herself. _A profession of undying love? This is House, remember?_

She stepped into the shower and began to wash her hair. She heard the bathroom door open; could see House through the shower curtain. Tilting her head back, she let the water run over her, rinsing the shampoo away.

When she emerged a few minutes later, he was gone and the door was closed. Quickly, she toweled herself dry and belted her robe around her waist.

She passed the bedroom and saw House, lying on the bed. His arm was flung over his eyes. Moving silently toward him, she stopped at the edge of the bed.

"House? What's wrong?" she asked.

"My leg hurts."

"Is there anything I can do?"

He sighed. "You could lie down with me."

She moved to the opposite side of the bed; her side of the bed. The realization made her smile. Stretching out beside him, she rested her head on his shoulder.

"You're hair's wet," he commented.

"I know. Water tends to have that effect."

"This is nice," he told her.

"It is."

She listened to him breathe. It amazed her that something so simple could make her so happy.

"Are you going to be happy here? With me?" he whispered.

"Yes," she assured him.

"Good."

"Are you going to be happy with me here?" she asked him.

He was silent. She closed her eyes.

"Yes," he finally responded. "I really think I will."

And they were.


End file.
